


Tea in Shanghai (Redone)

by pusdowriting



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Victorian, British Empire, British English, British Female Character, British Military, Business, China, Colonialism, Edwardian Period, F/F, F/M, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lesbian Adora (She-Ra), Lesbian Character, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Magic, Military, Murder, Original Character(s), POV Lesbian Character, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Prostitution, Terrorism, Victorian, Victorian Attitudes, War, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 21:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pusdowriting/pseuds/pusdowriting
Summary: A period piece taking place in between 1897 and 1942. Adora is born to a semi-wealthy family in British India, yet she longs for a life of excitement and adventure. Opportunity knocks and she is sent to Shanghai as a chief executive of an ivory trading firm owned and operated by a family friend. In Shanghai’s international zone hijinks ensue. She runs into Glimmer, an American actress who has run away from Californian society to be with her black servant turned lover, Bow. A conspiracy to remove foreigners from the city has resulted in a string of murders perpetrated by a terrorist group called the Horde, an offshoot of the infamous Boxers. All the while anxiety and uncertainty grips China as Russian and Japanese interests threaten to clash violently in Manchuria. As if the situation wasn’t stressful enough, Adora has begun to see things in the streets of the Chinese financial capital. Strange things, like a woman with the face of a cat.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Perfuma (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Little Maids

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a redone version of a pervious piece I wrote late last year and stopped abruptly. I'm determined to retry this as I quite like the idea of this story and was deeply encouraged by the positive feedback it received. 
> 
> As a quick sidenote: This time the story begins with a dying Adora telling her life story to Harry, a nurse at her elderly care home. I tired to write a version of this story without this scene because I didn't like starting the story with it, feeling it could incite the wrong mood in the reader. This is also the reason why the chapter reads like two separate introductions. However, the scene does serve a purpose for the story as a whole. Since the fiction I am writing takes place over a 45 year timeline the hospital scene will allow me to seamlessly move between different moments and events in my version of Adora's life with considerably less effort on my behalf. Therefore I will ask you to put up with it for now. If it really does bother you as a reader though, or takes you out of the story, please say so in the comments. If a majority of readers feel that way I will remove the scene or at least rework it.

Adora had been falling in and out of consciousness for days now. She knew, as did everyone else, that she was running out of time. Her body was becoming thinner, her muscles weaker and her stomach more irritable. Unable to digest. The nurses had begun to wean her off solid food as a result. It seemed that she now spent more time asleep than awake and it was only a matter of time till she didn’t wake up. The thought scared her. Though not as much as she thought it would. Mostly because she was so tired constantly. Too tired to properly comprehend it. 

There were other portents of her imminent mortality too. The nurses had been extra kind to her as of late. Fluffing her pillows and dotting over her. Their eyes full of pity and a half-masked sadness. It irritated her how kind they were being. They never used to be so kind. She checked into the home years ago now and for all her time there they had consistently shown contempt and bother for their work. As if looking after her and the rest of the residents was a chore. She supposed it was to them. Just another monotonous day job. Could she blame them really? Where was she when she was their age? She had already run off to the far east to run a one-woman trading firm. She would have been bored stiff if she were stuck looking after the elderly as a young ambitious woman. How time flew. 

They hadn’t noticed her stirring yet and so none of the nurses had crowded her. In the next room the communal TV blasted to life. As she turned her head to the broadcast she noticed the staff and some of the younger residents had gathered round it to listen. All of them were watching the screen intently from the facility lounges as the BBC announced its daily news coverage. 

“Violence escalated yesterday following a state of emergency being declared in Northern Ireland. British forces have been deployed across the country in key trouble zones as the Irish Republican Army promised a renewed campaign of separatist violence…” The volume was turned down by Harry, one of the nurses, as the gathered group began to frantically discuss the news among themselves. 

'Can you believe the state of the world today? First the oil embargo, inflation, poor princess Anne almost kidnapped, a Prime Minister forced out by strikes and now this.' Harry was a young man with an old soul. A typical South Englander, he didn’t raise his voice nor allow his irritation to seep into his tone. Although anyone could tell he was upset by the news. He reminded her of the kind of gentleman her father had been. A dying breed. Harry decided on calming his nerves by taking out a cigarette from his trousers. One of the female nurses dutifully moved in to light it for him.

'Thanks, Dianne.' He said instinctively. Offering another one of his cigarettes to her in thanks, which she took immediately. The crowd began discussing the country’s woes and Adora chose to tune them out. It was too depressing to think about the country. It was much like her in a way. When she was young both her and Britain were powerful and ambitious beyond measure. They had both bravely plunged into new frontiers and took the world by the horns. They had both done terrible things in her youth. Now they were both washed up. Shells of their former selves with only the memories of past greatness to haunt them. That she would die before it made a resurgence was something she deeply regretted. If Britain ever made a resurgence. Perhaps, like her, it was fated to die soon. 

‘I have to get out of this place you know.’ Harry bemused as he got up from the couch, thereby attracting Adora’s attention. ‘I swear to you, I’ll go to America and make something of myself. You’ll see.’ He was laughed off by most of the staff but he took it in good stride smiling playfully. 

‘Just don’t forget to take me with you.’ Said one of the old women prompting another round of laughter. As Harry walked in Adora’s direction he noticed she had woken. He quickly dropped whatever he was planning on doing and darted to her side. He fiddled with her blankets trying to make sure she was warm but Adora pushed him away only asking for help to sit up so that she could talk. The young man happily obliged. Choosing to rest her on one of the hard pillows which he placed on an angle against her bedhead. 

‘So you want to move to America?’ Adora inquired, interested. He laughed, taking the cigarette from his mouth and letting his posture slouch. He took a seat on a chair next to her before answering. 

‘It’s just an idle fantasy. It’s probably not much better there than here. Besides, the family would miss me.’ He stated. His eyes looking into the middle distance and his face becoming sad. 

‘I think you should do it.’ Adora decided with the same resolute determination that sent a young girl from Darjeeling to Shanghai in an age past. ‘A fresh start in a forign land can do wonders for someone your age. It certainly did for me.’ Adora smiled reminiscing on her memories. The statement caught the young man’s attention. 

‘Oh? And where did you go?’ Adora realised she had let something slip. When she arrived in London in the cold, bright winter of 1949 she did so with a promise. To forget everything that had happened before and never speak of it again. It had been too painful. By that point in her life she had no home, no family left and all her friends were either dead or missing. She had been made a refugee. With what money she had saved in her long stint in China she bought a house in the home counties and lived the rest of her life in relative solitude. All that time and until today she had stayed true to her promise and never mentioned her previous life. Now, on what was likely her deathbed, she suddenly got the urge to share her story. It was sad, yes, but it was also sweet in moments. And if she didn’t tell it now no one would ever remember Bow or Glimmer or Catra or the others. No one would remember Adam. Maybe no one would remember Shanghai, not the way she remembered it. The bustling financial capital, an international city. She wondered what became of her shop? Was it destroyed by the Japanese or was it left for the Communists to tear down?

‘Do you have time to listen to a long story?’ Adora asked after a moment of introspection, her voice and her eyes needy. Harry took a moment to watch her, somehow instantly understanding the gravity of what was about to be said. The gravity of fulfilling a dying wish. 

‘Of course.’ He said, after a moment. Adora smiled at him:

\---

Adora was born to a military family in the foothills of the Himalayas in 1878. In a small bungalow just outside of Darjeeling and just south of the mountainous kingdom of Sikkim. Her father was an artillery officer in the service of the Bengal Presidency. He served in three companies during the wars with the Emirate of Afghanistan. His brother was a naval officer who served on HMS Miranda from 1850 to 1865, meaning he saw combat in both the Russian War and the New Zealand Campaigns. He stayed on with the crew of the Miranda until it was decommissioned, immediately taking a new assignment on HMS Valorous where he served another decade before retiring back to Darjeeling. Their father before them was a soldier in service of the EIC and he was the son of an interloper, trading under the noise of the company. A family legend has it that he was a part time mercenary who fell in love with the wife of a French general, running off with her to the court of a Maratha King who relied on the man to carry out daring raids on his enemies. So Adora was the daughter of a soldier, the nephew of a sailor, the grand daughter of an officer and the great grand daughter of a trader turned privateer, highwayman. In short, there was no lack of stories at the dinner table. 

The way her parents used to tell those stories was enough to convince her and her brother, Adam, that they were destined to continue the family tradition and do something brave and daring. Neither wanted to be the first child in the family to be a nobody unworthy of a story of their own. As children the siblings favourite pastime was to play out such stories in war games, aided by the little mini-figures of British and Russian soldiers their father had bought for them while on service in Pashtunistan. Adora was the younger child so her brother usually let her play the part of the brave and plucky redcoats, taking on the evil expansionist Russian empire and its monstrous, fat, moustachioed Tsar. They spent hours every day playing out those battles with each other on the floor of their sitting room. As they got older, however, her mother started to discourage her from playing what she called the “boy’s games.” She was only twelve when she began to receive “the talks”. About a woman’s place in society, and a man’s place in society. Women weren’t soldiers, women were not daring knights and women weren’t political leaders. Her job, her mother insisted, was to marry well and look after their family’s future. In a way it almost sounded noble. Her mother would often say that every happy soldier, every powerful general and every governor and prime minister had a loving woman for support in the background. Without which they would be totally unable to do their noble duties. Women had their role to play in history, she would say. 

Still Adora was unconvinced. She had been fed on stories of heroism, bravery and daring since she was small and she wanted to be a part of it. So every second day, to sate her desire to be in the man’s world, she convinced her brother to take her shooting with him and his school friends. She became very good with the hunting rifle and the two of them became extremely competitive. Her preference for the company of her brother's friends meant that she would often skip her schooling days in the local nunnery school all together or else sneak out before final period so that she could rendezvous with them outside the cadets campus. When they were older she would attend plays with them in Calcutta on weekends and go out drinking with them in bars. Her mother was often furious but with her father so often away and her brother aiding her in these misadventures there was little she could do. Besides she was surrounded by a large group of strong young men which she had known from when they were all children and they were extremely protective of her. There was no danger of her getting hurt. She was so confident of that in fact that she even got into a few fights in the bars. Teaching some of the men who got a bit too touchy exactly what she was made of. She could often scare off a creep or two without aid of her possy but if things went south her brother and the others would simply intervene and scare them off.

So Adora spent her teenage days hunting, clubbing and generally misbehaving with the caring support of her many friends. Despite the stories of the noble and elegant Lady Constance Mary, wife of the Viceroy Lord Elgin, with her lavish parties and sober council to the most powerful man in India, she knew that the life of a gentle wife didn’t suit her. No matter how much her mother wanted her to let go of her fantasies she would not. Reality only really set in when she turned 18. She had no good marriage prospects, not that she wanted to marry but if she was going to she would like to do so well, and her brother and her friends were all signing up for the army registry following the end of their schooling. It was six months later that Adam received the news that he was being stationed in Cape Town, a world away from their home in the Bengali foothills. He promised to write but it was an emotional goodbye. He was going for his adventure, and she was happy for him. Yet she was also jealous of him. He was off to explore the interior of Africa, in comparison it looked like her adventure wouldn’t come. 

She lost her possy of male companions and without them and their endless encouragement she began to give into social pressure. She hung out more with the women. She attended dinners and began looking for a man, as she was meant to. Most of them older than her, most of them ugly and most of them socially boastful and generally unsettling. Her father could see the toll it was having on her and so on her 19th birthday he took her to Calcutta for a historic showing of HMS Pinafore by the Madras Theatre Company for a day out. Like the ones she used to have with Adam and his friends. It was a wonderful, delightful present but her father had something far more special in mind for her. He took her to dinner and then, rather unceremoniously, handed her a comically large envelope, filled to the brim with papers that caused the thing to bulge outwards unnaturally. She eyed it with great confusion but took it anyway and moved to study its contents. 

‘I know you want an adventure for your life.’ He began. ‘And I know you wish more than anything you were born a boy.’ Adora moved to silence him, not wanting the aging man to exert himself over things that could not be helped but her father silenced her, insisting he be allowed to say his piece. Adora gave in and listened. 

‘Your mother and I wanted you to marry but I can see how unhappy it made you and I cannot stand to see it any longer. Not that there is a man in all the empire that is worthy of you. My special little girl.’ Adora felt herself warm and her father’s praise and close to tears because of the general bitterness of her situation. She spoke silent thank yous, letting him continue. 

‘I’ve decided you're going to have your adventure.’ He said, his own eyes beginning to water. He took a handkerchief to his face to prevent the tears from leaking down his cheek. He then pointed to the envelope in her hand. ‘In there is all your documentation, your passport and a copy of your birth certificate I had made last month. Along with seventy pounds and a ticket for transport to Shanghai. I’ve pulled some strings for you to be named a chief executive of your godfather's ivory trading company in China. He expects you to begin selling to the far-eastern markets immediately.’ Her father explained. 

Adora sat opposite of her father totally gobsmacked. She eyed the envelope with a new sense of awe. Its bulging, weighty interior now seemingly promised to take her to a far away land, to begin her own chapter in the story of her family's history. It’s bulging interior was her way out of a boring life, saddled with some boring old man she could never hope to love. She looked at it nervously, with equal part trepidation and excitement.

‘When does the boat leave?’ She asked after being at a loss for what to say for a long while.

‘It leaves in twelve hours.’ He answered. The statement caused panic to erupt from within her. 

‘Twelve hours! Have you gone mad? What about my clothes, what about my friends, what about mum? Does she know about this?’ Adora was becoming hysterical. 

‘Your mother wouldn't approve of this. Best not to tell her until you’re already on your way. Otherwise she would try to stop you.’ He laughed. ‘Asking forgiveness is often easier than permission. She’ll get over it I promise you. Your ship will stop in Singapore for a few days, its post office will be in use so I expect you to write back to all of us as soon as you arrive.’ He stated sternly. ‘I’ve also organised for your clothes to be on the boat when it leaves, the suitcases will be placed under your name. There should be a temporary accommodation ready for you when you arrive for your stay in Singapore as well as a small apartment above your godfather’s shop in Shanghai. Just ask the British Consulate at each destination where it is. You should only have to give your name. If for some reason there are unforeseen issues that’s what the seventy pounds is for. More than enough to accommodate you until you reach Shanghai.’ He finished, pride swelling visibly in his chest as he awaited her response. 

‘This must have cost a fortune.’ She stated, worry filling her at the prospect. 

‘It wasn’t cheap but your godfather financed most of it through the selling of company shares. We all expect you to make back the money and more when you begin to do business in Shanghai.’ With that Adora had it all. A call to action, a mysterious foreign land, a mission and a sense of duty. She would earn enough money to pay back her debts to her patrons. Those who had chosen to believe in her and give her the life she wanted. 

‘I won’t let you down.’ She said finally after a lengthy pause. Conviction filling her.

‘That’s my girl. Now go! Find a place to sleep for the night and remember to wake up before 11:00 AM sharp. That’s when the boat leaves. I’ll go back home to tell your mother where you’ve gone.’ He moved to get up but Adora launched herself at him to entangle her father in a tight embrace. 

‘Do get off me. Spare me the emotional goodbye. You won’t want to embarrass your father by letting him be seen crying in public.’ She shook her head. 

‘No, we wouldn’t want that.’ She agreed before reluctantly pulling away. Before he left he extended his hand for her to shake and she took it.

\---

Adora found a cheap hotel overlooking the docks from which her ship was to depart. It wasn’t the nicest stay. Its rooms were cramped, its ceiling low and its bed hard as stone. It was, however, cheap. Which Adora thought made up for its shortcomings. She was determined to lose her taste for comfort and wealth, to rough her stays in order to be more frugal. Even as she struggled to lay on her bed she was thinking about the stories she would tell and the personalities she would meet on the way. Her belly full from her post-show dinner, she slowly let the calming feeling of drowsiness consume her. Her trials and tribulations would start when the sun rose the next morning. 

At 09:00 she was awoken by an attendant of the hotel, as per her instructions to the management. The servant was a well mannered Indian boy, no older than she was, with perfect teeth and perfect English. A rare sight indeed. He was kind enough to bring her breakfast up to her room as well as a series of handkerchiefs and hot towels to help freshen herself up. She thanked him and he dutifully found a spot in the side of the room and stood there silently. Waiting to be called on again. 

Adora’s home was comfortable, reasonably roomy and on the outskirts of the infamously lavish Darjeeling district. She had grown up around wealth and had visited homes where the occupants were waited on hand and foot by an army of native servants who behaved in just such a manner as the hotel staff member did now. She was well accustomed to it. Yet her home was never like this. Her father had taught her a distaste for how the wealthy British treated their Indian servants. How they looked down on them and thought them only good enough to work in servile jobs. He always made a point of being conversational with the Indians who came their way. Making a virtue of being polite. For this, he was considered an eccentric by his peers, who even went so far as to suggest he had “gone native.”

Her father learned these better manners during the wars in Afghanistan. Social etiquette washed away while under fire from Muslim tribesmen. One of his favourite stories was of an Indian cadet named Muhammed Ghorani who dragged her father from danger at great personal risk after he had suffered a blow to the head rendering him unconscious. “The camaraderie of soldiers was stronger than the camaraderie of race”, he would say. Adora was already a female businessman, on her own and headed to the far east. She comforted herself in the belief that she would already be considered an eccentric of the highest order. She therefore reasoned that she had nothing to lose from breaking a few more social taboos. Her mind made up, she engaged the servant in conversation, yet he did not make it easy for her. 

‘What is your name?’ She asked.

‘Poona, Jacob Poona. Ma’am.’ he replied.

‘How did you get this job?’ She inquired.

‘I was given the job by the graciousness of my master. A Professor Owens from Calcutta University.’ He answered, stiffly looking forward and refusing to make direct eye contact with her. Adora considered the answer. 

‘Do you follow the paper?’ She asked.

‘I have a copy of the Times of India for the young lady. If she wishes to read it?’ He replied. 

‘I asked if you follow the paper.’ She insisted, trying to get something out of Mr Poona. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He answered.

‘Tell me then, what’s in the news.’ She awaited his recounting. 

‘I’m sure your ladyship is well aware of the plague currently sweeping through Bombay?’ He inquired.

‘Yes.’ Adora responded. A terrible business but so far a well-contained one. 

‘Walter Charles Rand, the plague commissioner, was shot in a protest two days ago.’ That was news, though Adora had to admit she didn’t keep up with that sort of thing. 

‘Why have they done that? Who has done that?’ She asked in quick succession.

‘I’m not sure mistress but I assume it was in protest to the draconian policies enforced by the commissioner. They say the lockdowns and the severe punishments for those who broke them were causing civil unrest in the city.’ Adora considered the answer.

‘Between that and the Assam earthquakes a few months ago the whole of India seems to be on the verge of some kind of biblical retribution.’ She observed, with a slight jest.

‘Indeed ma’am.’ Jacob answered. His voice softening as a smirk began to form on his features. 

‘Have the Indian National Congress said anything about it?’ Adora seized the initiative.

‘Not that I’ve heard ma’am. You follow the Indian National Congress ma’am?’ There, she finally had him talking. She explained her casual interest in Indian politics, which in itself was generous, and her vague support for the mission statements of the INC. This position obviously caused Jacob to ease as he began to talk more freely about what he felt the INC was doing right and what it was doing poorly in India. Conversation soon turned to the future. Adora explained her mission to Shanghai and Jacob shared his intention to study at Cambridge to become a lawyer and eventually a civil servant in the Indian Government. Having indulged in delightful conversation Adora felt she was ready for the rigours of the day and so set out for the docks, waving a friendly goodbye to Jacob as she went. Her ship was a large steamer, not one of the behemoths that regularly ferried people from London to New York, but a decently sized vessel with a capacity for over a thousand passengers and crew. 

Adora showed her ticket to one of the attendants of the merchant ship, the SS. Anne, and was directed to a room towards the back of the vessel. It was even tighter than the hotel room but that was to be expected. A sailor brought in her bags a few moments later, the ones her father had arranged to be packed for her. She took a moment to survey the items inside. Clothing, a little bit of jewellery and some parchment with a fancy new pen with which she was expected to write home whenever possible. She learnt that the trip in Singapore would take seventeen hours due to a small pit-stop in Rangoon where they would allow some passengers to alight as well as take on new passengers and cargo. Adora doubted she would be able to sleep, or do much of anything in her tight quarters, so instead she took a book from the luggage that her father had packed for her and began to read.

It was called Dracula and it was written by an Irish author with the name of Bram Stoker. A message written in the margins by her father explained that the novel had made waves in London after being published in May of that year. The message explained that the book reminded her father of Mary Shelly’s novel Frankenstein, one of Adora’s childhood favourites. As she read the book she began to see some similarities immediately. Both books were composed of letters written by the characters themselves though Dracula seemed to enjoy the odd newspaper clipping to go along with it. The monster of the book, the infamous Count Dracula, seemed an altogether more sinister creature than the monster of Shelly’s book. A vampire who terrorised the villages of his native Hungarian lands only to be transplanted to London in time for the heroic Abraham Van-Helsing to learn of the creature and plot to slay it. 

It was an exciting book. An adventure book. A fictionalised story of duty, a call to action and a holy mission. Adora was just about done with the novel when they reached Rangoon. The protagonists had chased the demon from London streets all the way across Europe and into the borderlands of the Austro-Hungarian empire. Realising she had been greedy and had read her only book before she was even halfway to her destination, she opted to alight briefly at the Burmese port city. She found a shop and purchased another book at a very reasonable price before rushing back to the SS. Anne. This one was a collection of stories by a Mr Arthur Conan Doyle about a young detective who leaves his life in India to begin a practice in London. Adora supposed she had that in common with the fictional detective. Only she was going further east rather than returning west to begin her story. She enjoyed the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and his companions for the remaining hours as she awaited her destination.


	2. Hearts of Oak

Adora arrived in the Strait Settlement of Singapore in the British East Indies on the 25th of June 1897 at 4 AM. The SS. Anne, having made dock, began to alight her passengers and crew. The long trip had taken its toll on Adora and so, sluggishly, she made her way from the dock with her bags in hand. Progress was slow as she was dragging all her worldly possessions, with great difficulty, behind her. Totally unable to find a comfortable means by which to do so. She asked directions to Fort Canning on multiple occasions in the hope of being swiftly directed to the British Consulate therein. From there she intended to immediately take ownership of the bed her godparents had organised for her in the city. She talked primarily to the soldiery as most of the civilian population looked less than friendly. It was the witching hour and from those still awake and working she received mostly sneers and contemptuous stares. Many of them were night-shift labourers, others were drunks and homeless wandering the streets. The only thing they seemed to have in common, Adora noted, was their Chinese ancestry. They spoke to each other in a language Adora didn’t understand though usually loud enough for her to clearly make out that they were talking about her. The whole situation was incredibly unnerving.

The soldiers themselves were less than helpful. A sepoy garrison she ran into had a few good English speakers but it seemed they also had little patience for the young British girl lost in the city. Nevertheless they gave vague directions and sent her on her way. Better than nothing, she supposed. In what seemed like hours in her sleep deprived state, but in reality must have been far less than that, she arrived at Fort Canning and was taken in by the staff. The offices were not technically open for another two hours but an attendant of the consulate was there early and decided to take pity on her and look over his papers. In only a few moments the man remerged from behind his desk with a large key and a deed for a small home which he described as being just outside of the bowls club at the southern edge of the island. Adora thanked him and took the key in her free hand. She was determined to make her way to the home as soon as possible. The attendant, however, protested her walking the streets at night without supervision so she reluctantly accepted his offer of a military escort.

Too tired to be much of a conversationalist she did however learn that the soldiers' names were John and Luke and that they were brothers. Born to a plantation family in Queensland, their eldest brother had inherited their entire family’s fortune and property so, in protest, the two of them moved to the straits to start a new life. The brothers were obviously very close, each one able to finish each other's thoughts and sentences seamlessly as if they were two parts of the same whole. It reminded her, with a pang, of her own sibling relationship. The boys took her right up to her door. They exchanged a brief goodbye and insisted that Adora should find them for coffee sometime before she left for Shanghai. She must have mentioned her plans to them at some point during their trip. She was too delirious to remember. With the temptation of a bed so near she didn’t bother to unpack or even take off her clothes, she simply fell onto the mattress and let the bliss of sleep consume her.

When she woke the next day, far too late to have been acceptable in civil society, she hastily got on with the business of the day in an attempt to make up for lost time. She ate a light breakfast, finding to her delight that the cabinets had been pre-stocked with some bread and cheeses, and then got dressed in a new set of clothes. She placed the old pair in a haphazard pile beside her bed for future washing, having decided that she would leave that chore for later. Instead, she took her new fountain pen and wrote a letter to her parents, just as she had promised to do upon arrival. While she was there she also decided to write a letter to the South African Rifles Company, addressed to her brother, to inform him of her journey so far. With both letters in hand, she left her temporary lodgings for the post office. She bought two stamps from a newspaper vendor along the way as well as a copy of the Straits Times for three shillings. The vendor demanded extra payment for the hassle of currency conversion. The paper mostly waffled on about earthquake relief, plague in India and the shipping forecast. Having sent her letter through the post the next thing on her to do list was to enter The Chartered Bank.

The Chartered Bank of India, Australia and China was the largest currency issuing bank in all of Asia and one of the few institutions within Singapore which had the licensed ability to issue the standard currency of the Chinese treaty ports, which Adora only now learnt, was the Mexican dollar. Actually, she had had a heated and frankly embarrassing exchange with the bank clerk who had initially tried to convert fifty of her British pounds to three thousand Mexican dollars. She believed he had lost his mind and insisted that she was going to Shanghai and not Mexico City. After complaining loudly and continuously an associate of the bank had to explain to her that the Mexican dollar was indeed the currency of choice in China. Something about the dollar being reliably pegged to the silver standard but to be honest most of the explanation flew over her head.

Once she had her dollars in hand she fled from the bank as quickly as her legs would carry her. She found the chaos of the Singaporean streets much more to her liking than the stuffy bureaucratic bank. Its roads were alive with activity. Vendors packed the paths either side of her, selling an array of unique foods and clothing items from all over Asia. The cacophony of sounds and smells served as a marvellous distraction from her recent embarrassment as the air, plastered with the delicious smells of cooking meats and various spices, reminded Adora of Calcutta in spring time. The locals too looked much friendlier by day. She saw many more smiles than last night as vendors attempted to entice passers by with their various goods. Yet, Adora didn’t feel comfortable walking the streets aimlessly with so much money on her and so she decided to make her way back to her rented bungalow to deposit it all safely in one of her carry bags.

The sites of the city had, however, already cast their spell over her. She was eager not to waste any of her time inside. Determined to have her day out she deposited her money and then immediately went back out and began asking around the place for the most popular venues. Most people she spoke to were kind enough to give suggestions and exchange pleasantries but nothing had caught her interest. At least not until she made contact with a horse racer who suggested the Turf Club. It was a large bar, golf and horse racing facility with a huge British presence on the island. That made it the place to be if you preferred to speak in English. Adora accepted the advice as she suddenly quite fancied a drink and some bar snacks. She hadn’t really had a genuine club experience since her brother and his friends left their hometown for Africa over a year ago now and she missed the bar scene. 

Her mind made up, she found herself entering the Turf Club. She entered as a guest of the club, as she wouldn’t be staying long enough to need to sign up as a member, and then proceeded to make her way straight to the bar. She ordered whatever beer was on tap along with a few potato crisps and settled for a little people watching. She was eventually approached by some men around the tables that seemed more than a little bit interested in the new irregular. She was flattered by their flirting but was uninterested. She was never really interested in boys that way but that was a whole other can of worms she didn’t need to think about at that moment. Adora preferred to talk about the horse races, for which the bar was so famous, and soon her chatter with the fellow patrons turned from idle and unsubtle flirting to passionate interest. Presumably, the men having given up on seducing her, felt no small sense of relief at being given the change of subject.

They talked about the Straits Racing Association, founded the previous year, and how its oversight had encouraged a renewed gambling scene, as well as the excitement around newly imported Australian horses. There was a race on that very day and she was encouraged to make a bet. Adora would like to say she wasn’t a gambler by nature but having jumped on a trip to Shanghai within a moment of its offering she was no longer sure that was a correct summation. She ultimately made the decision to throw caution to the wind and put her remaining pocket money on a horse with fairly bad odds by the name of Kitchener’s Baton. Some of the patrons showed visible disappointment at the choice while others applauded her bravery. Of course the bet meant she would now have to stay for the race.

Soon enough the entire club abandoned the bar to make a camp around the race track. Adora chose to stay with the same crowd she met in the bar. The men ranging in age from eighteen to their mid-forties reminded her of her old crew back in Bengal. They made her feel almost like she was back home, shooting and partying with her brother and their friends. The race went off with a bang and there was immediately cheering and yelling. As the laps came and went it looked as if she hadn’t made as stupid a decision as some thought. Kitcherner’s Baton was holding a respectable second place on the heel of the lead stallion Mr Grey. This elicited much excitement and tension among her group, causing one man who had a little too much to drink, to shake her violently by the shoulders in excitement. Some of the onlookers seemed concerned by the action but Adora laughed him off. She was a fighter not some damsel in distress, besides, the man was clearly harmless. Her reaction calmed her merry band friends and they returned their attention to the race.

It was a close finish but upon the referee declaring victory for Kitchener’s Baton Adora rose with a celebratory scream which was quickly, and thankfully, followed in suit by her new companions. Congratulations were exchanged, money was handed out and Adora took her new friends back inside for another round, to be paid for by her winnings of course. That was a full day. Slightly drunk and having had so much fun, she retired to her home having just missed sundown. She laughed to herself uncontrollably for a few moments whilst laying on her bed. Revealed in the ecstasy of not only her victory but in her new found freedom as a whole. She decided she was going to enjoy her new life.

\---

Singapore proved again and again to be to Adora’s tastes. It was a restless place bustling endlessly with the business of merchants, sportsmen and other professionals going about their day. Yet it somehow maintained its wild, frontier nature. The city was keenly aware of its status as an outpost of civilisation on the edge of the world. Chaos seemed to rub shoulders with order wherever you looked. The tall, austere sandstone forts of Georgian design sat beside the most wonderfully decorated east Asian pagodas and Victorian tea houses, more suitably found in Bath, shared their seating arrangements with the street vendors’ dumplings and noodles. The dirt poor walked the same roads as the clearly extremely wealthy and all this seemed so regular to the inhabitants of Singapore that it scarcely drew attention. It was alien, diverse and unlike any other place in the world. Adora loved it.

The social life of Singapore proved to be just as fruitful. Specifically the company she enjoyed amongst the Turf Club and its members. She frequented the place another four times after her stunning race horse victory, spending almost every cent of her winnings on lavish dinners and further gambling endeavours. None of which were as successful as her first day. She justified her spending sprees on the admittedly rather flimsy excuse that the Straits dollars she won would be unspendable when she got to Shanghai. In reality it would have been only a day's chore to transfer her winnings into a more suitable currency. Nevertheless she was having fun and due to the aforementioned winnings she was still under budget, in spite of her indulgences. She would even wager she had more money to her name now than when she left India but seeing as her riches were now divided between three disparate currencies she couldn’t know for certain. 

Though it pained her, the lease on the bungalow was running out and she was expected in Shanghai within a matter of days. After just a week gallivanting in the Straits she would be off once more. This time to her final destination, to Shanghai. She arranged a seat on the SS. Lucknow to transport her from Singapore into the South China Sea and then onto China. It turned out to be very cheap as the ship had failed to allure enough passengers for the voyage. It was scheduled to leave late in the night of the 3rd of July. Adora, having packed her bags the previous night, left her residences early that morning. She returned the key to the property at the British Consulate in Fort Canning well before midday and was then at a loss for what to do with herself before nightfall. Luckily, the Australian brothers she had met upon her arrival in Singapore were on staff and informed her, excitedly, that they would be off duty in less than an hour. She took a seat just outside on the fort’s gardens and allowed Mr Arthur Conan Doyle to help her pass the time. The heat of the south Asian sun was well known to any resident of India but Adora had learned the hard way that Singapore reached temperatures unheard of even in Bengal. It did not help that it was the height of summer, causing the blaring sun to bite if one laid under it too long. 

As midday approached she sought greater and greater shelter from the oppressive climate, having to abandon her book to find a fountain and splash her face in the water. The cool liquid provided limited, but immensely refreshing, relief from the sun’s rays. She decided to sit by that fountain for another few moments before John and Luke found her. The three of them reintroduced themselves to each other before collectively deciding to retreat to the lower quarter of the city. There they hid in the shade of the botanic gardens waiting for the sun to lower. They talked mostly of their old lives back home. Adora told stories of her escapades in the forests surrounding Darjeeling, mostly hunting stories about deer and boar she managed to bring down with her family’s hunting rifles. One of the brothers, John, showed a slight disgust at the idea of hunting. They grew up as sheep farmers outside Townsville and Luke noted, with some amusement, John’s strange attachment to their animals. The teasing quickly eliciting a laugh from the blond woman. Adora explained that in India, everyone hunted. Every white man at least. The subcontinent was famous for its blood sports and no self-respecting family would be seen in public if one of its members hadn’t brought down a tiger or an elephant. That was simply the way of things. 

As the sun drew lower in the sky and the heat of the day was beginning to fade, their conversation had turned political. The boys were discussing their views on Australian federation. Adora hadn’t known that such a thing was being considered but the way the men talked about it you would think nothing else in the whole empire was being discussed. Neither of them were particularly fond of the idea. To sheep farmers in north Queensland a united Australia sounded like handing the governing of their home to the bigwigs in Sydney and Melbourne, the capital cities of the continent's two largest colonies. Even so, London wanted it. As did Sydney and Melbourne. The federation was therefore inevitable. Adora could contribute little to the conversation as she knew practically nothing about Australia. She did, however, compare the situation to a partition of Bengal that had been on the agenda of the Indian central government. It wasn’t really a similar situation as the changes on the subcontinent would mostly be administrative rather than political, but it allowed her to keep conversation. 

Having talked themselves out Adora took them up on their earlier offer for a coffee before she departed. They found a small coffee house just outside the main dockyards and sat down. The produce was brilliant, though John and Luke lamented that no such coffee would be found in Shanghai. A chilling thought. Still, China was famous for its world class teas. She would have to make do with that. What a shame indeed. They chose to drink to her good voyage and fortune and the boys kindly insisted on carrying her bags onto the SS. Lucknow. She waved goodbye to them, along with all Singapore, from the deck of the ship just a few moments later. 

On route to Shanghai a storm developed forcing the passengers inside to wait it out. Adora found her way to the seclusion of her cabin and chose to continue with her stories. The rough seas of the pacific threatened to make her sick. She wondered how her uncle had managed to stand it all those years he served in the navy. She bit back her bile deciding, defiantly, to refuse to give in to her weakened stomach. Mind over matter prevailed in that moment as she resisted the urge to be sick. Besides, if she were to be sick she may miss how Holmes would outsmart Moriarty, and she couldn’t have that. Exhausting herself with the effort and with the seas endlessly rocking her, she eventually found herself falling into an uneasy sleep. 

She awoke just a few hours later. The book splayed across her chest. The waters had calmed, the sun rose and Shanghai was mere hours away.


	3. Better Far To Live And Die

Adora arrived at the Bund just before midday on the 4th of July. The SS. Lucknow docked after waiting in a shipping lane up the Huangpu River for three hours. The delay allowed her some time to survey her new home from the ship’s deck. The streets of the Shanghai International Zone were as chaotic and busy as any in Singapore but with a few twists. The streets of the city were narrower and between each rooftop hung streamers with a series of large, paper signs dangling over the alleyways. Each one painted with calligraphy or various other kinds of advertisements. There were also fixed signs with bright flashing lights drawing attention to their owners' establishments, as Adora imagined they might have done in London or New York. The women of the city wore a variety of colourful dresses, elaborately made and brimming with varied decorations. The dresses ranged from bright pale yellows to soft blues and deep pinks and each had a matching series of accessories. For example, many of the women held rather expensive looking fashion umbrellas, ostensibly to block out the summer sun, while every last one of them hand a pair of gloves and a handbag of some description. All in matching colours, obviously.

Adora looked on with dread at what seemed to be the lavish decorative standards of the city and did not look forward to trying to replicate them. When it came to dress she preferred austerity to lavishness as a rule and had always been thankful for the relatively relaxed fashion culture of her home in Bengal. This bustling consumer metropolis had no such sense of modesty. As she scanned the faces of the people she was surprised by the near total lack of Chinese. She had been well aware that the International Zone was a predominantly European area of residence but still it shocked her. Not quite so much as the city's latest fad however. Everywhere she looked there were star-spangled banners. It seemed the Americans were out in force to celebrate their national day of independence. The Americans paraded themselves loudly, and perhaps even a little obnoxiously, up and down the Bund square as they followed the river, waving their flags and singing their national songs. In particular, their national anthem, which was sung constantly and repeatedly and without exception out of tune. Yet they were having fun and Adora couldn’t fault them for that she supposed. She watched with rising curiosity as a series of crates were being unloaded across the broad walk each filled to the brim with rockets which promised a night-time fireworks extravaganza. Adora feared she would be kept up all night.

When she alighted with the rest of the passengers she was immediately stopped by a civil servant under the employ of the Shanghai Municipal Council. The young man, dressed in a suit without a tie, asked each and every passenger to provide means of identification to prove their status. When it was Adora’s turn the man interrupted her and asked if she was with someone. A father or a husband. When she replied no it seemed to annoy him. He quickly and rudely demanded proof of her citizenship and right to inhabit the International Zone. Adora relinquished her passport and a copy of her birth certificate which clearly outlined her rights as a citizen of the United Kingdom in India. The man sneered as he looked over the documents. Each moment they remained in his hands caused some anxiety in her as they were the only proof of her identity for thousands of miles. Eventually he returned the documents and demanded that she make her way to the British Consulate-General building up the road. With a huff she took her items and left. She dodged and weaved her way past the celebrating Americans to find her destination.

The British Consulate-General building was a fenced off area with a massive, well mowed, green grass courtyard standing between it and the Bund. It was a large square building with sandstone pillars and wood framed windows. An architectural style she was all too familiar with from back home. As she approached its front door the two soldiers who were guarding the entrance halted her. They quickly asked for her identification and to know her business entering the building. Their faces were set in stone but at least they weren’t actively contemptuous like the civil servant had been. She gave her name, business and her passport and they let her through without issue.

When she arrived inside she found herself in the centre of a rounded foyer with a marble-stone floor and a series of golden chandeliers hanging from a lavishly decorated ceiling. To her right was a desk with a free attendant who ushered her towards him. Like in Fort Canning before, the attendant went through his papers, retreated through a backdoor and then reemerged with a key to a property and a deed. Only this time the property was a business not a bungalow. A shop from which to organise the selling of ivory from her godfather’s company, and one that shared its walls with two other stores either side. She was to live in a small residence above the shop, accessible by a tiny flight of stairs hidden behind a staff door. The previous owner, the man explained, was an impoverished kitchenware salesman who fell out of business two months ago. Nobody had entered the property since.

Along with the key and the deed to the property Adora also had to sign some papers in order to be given a merchant's license. As well as being a legal necessity to sell and practice in the city, the licence also served as the registration of her business with the Municipal Council of Shanghai. The council required registration of all businesses and residencies in the International Zone. As the de facto government of the city it organised the supply of water and electricity to every building and collected tax for the privilege. Adora insisted on reading the terms of papers in full but the attendant assured her that the whole process was completely compulsory due to the Municipal Council’s enforced legal monopoly. After a while she acquiesced and signed everything.

She did, however, fill one section incorrectly. She told the Consulate, in a form to be forwarded to Municipal Council, that she was a man. Her thought process was simple. It was the right of any man, paying a fee to the Municipal Council to do business as she was, to have a voice and a vote in the body's decision making process. If the attendant noticed the deception she could laugh it off as a mistake. If he didn’t then she could perhaps circumvent the rules and win for herself some political suffrage, even if it was under the nose of the city government. After all, she was paying the bastards, she deserved to be kept in the loop. Thankfully the attendant didn’t notice. In fact he barely looked at the papers at all. He merely filed them away and wished her good luck and a safe journey.

Before she left the building she made her way to the British Consular post-office which was located in the same building, down a hallway and to her left. It technically was run by the Hong Kong postal service but Shanghai had been working on a more unified postal system under the auspices of the Municipal Council. The International Zone therefore had its own stamps, printed in the local currency. She gave her name and found two letters had been sent to her. One from her mother and father, a mostly boring and standard letter asking her to write back to them upon her arrival, and one from her brother that had just arrived that day from the Cape Colony. Adora took both and found a seat just outside the building to read them.

  
_My dearest sister,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. It is not cheap to write from Port Elizabeth to Shanghai so you will forgive me if my letters are few and far between. I care deeply for you and would write daily if I could. Our father of course, has kindly offered to forward any letter I write intended for you, to save on the expense. To keep up appearances I will take him up on that offer regularly but I’m sure you agree that some conversations between us are best left private and out of the prying eyes of our parents. I expect you will share with me, in good time, all the details of all your adventures in China and without the careful censoring that may be wise when relaying those details home._

_Yet, I would be remiss as a brother if I didn’t give you the standard warning to keep yourself safe. A young woman stuck in a poor and backwards land should take all necessary precautions to protect herself. Don’t go out on the streets late in the night. Keep good company as much as you are able and don’t do anything rash, stupid or for heaven’s sake illegal. Even under the protections of extraterritoriality misshapes can occur. Remember that._

_Even as I write these words I can envision your eyes rolling in your head. I know you don’t need these warnings but you must learn to indulge your brother from time to time. To prove to you that I still think you are capable I will add this note: Though it may be unlady like, I would sleep better at night if I knew you had a pistol on you at all times. You were always an excellent shot and if some bandit decided to attack you I would be much the happier knowing he was sent to an early grave by your hand. If not, I may have to arrange a transfer to China to oversee your protection myself. I’m sure neither of us want that._

_Now that I have fulfilled my sibling’s duty I suppose you will want to hear about me. Well news here has been eventful. My company has just received word to march to the border of the Orange Free State. It is a Dutch republic with an entirely ironic name. Ostensibly the action is routine but tensions in the Cape of Good Hope are palpable. The Prime Minister of the Cape, one Cecil Rhodes, was forced from office last year for conspiring to begin a revolt amongst the Boers. Apparently there are a large number of Englishmen, which the Dutch call Uitlanders, living under the tyranny of these so called republics. They are denied the vote, their church and the freedom to exercise free commerce with their fellow countrymen on this side of the border. The Dutch fear that giving them the vote will lead to the sensible decision of finding compromise between the competing interests of her majesty’s government and the Boers._

_Instead of joining under the jurisdiction of our commerce and our rule of law they insist on their backwardness and trod on both Black and Englishmen who protest the status quo. The call for a war on both sides has been growing steadily ever since. There is much bloodlust in the air and I will not lie to you and say it is not infectious. Hearing of these Boers boils my blood as much as it does a native of the Cape. I suspect fighting will break out sooner or later and that I will be called on to fight for queen and country. Of course only time will tell what actually happens._

_For now I will leave you with this sentiment; keep yourself safe and I shall endeavour to do the same._

_Your Brother, Adam._

Adora read the letter with some concern and vowed to reply as soon as possible. At that moment, however, she needed to take possession of her new property. She had an address and some rudimentary instructions, neither of which proved incredibly helpful. She searched for the store among the excitable crowds for two hours before finally coming across the property. It looked near identical to its neighbours, both those on its left and right as well as adjacent across the street. It had a dark-oak wooden door, with a sandstone base, red-brick walls and a balcony protruding from its second floor. A large window covered most of its street facing wall, an excellent design for window shopping. Inside was a dark and musty room with lots of shelving space, glass cabinets and a well made wooden front desk. Thick and heavy, it was built into the far wall in an L-shape and its height easily reached above Adora’s waist. The floor of the shop was carpeted with a dark green material, fluffy and patterned with small colourful flowers and vines. The ceiling was made up of tightly bound wooden beams and had a small chandelier hanging from its centre. Behind the desk was its light switch but Adora quickly learned that the power in the building wasn’t on yet.

Adora decided to make her way to the back of the shop towards the staff entrance door. Opening it, she found little more than a cramped cupboard, with more shelving space underneath a flight of thin, steep stairs. She dragged her bags up to the building’s second and highest floor to find modest living quarters. The stairs led immediately to a small living room with a couch, a coffee table and a lamp. The floor was carpeted much the same as the downstairs and the room had two doors that led to a bedroom and a kitchen respectively. Another door, through the bedroom, led out to the balcony while a fourth door, this one through the kitchen, led into the bathroom. Adora took some time to stare at the toilet within.

She was conceptually aware of the flushable toilet. It was hardly a new invention, but its heavy reliance on sophisticated plumbing and an integrated sewage network meant that it never really made it to the colonies. She had always made do with outhouses, ditches that were cleaned out semi-regularly. The thought of using an indoor toilet was at once a disgusting and intriguing notion. She fiddled with the handle of the flushing mechanism inquisitively though nothing happened due to the water having yet to be turned on. After getting to grips with the property and unpacking her bags she quickly went to work. The first thing she needed to do was spring clean. The whole building had been allowed to become dusty for lack of use and cobwebs made their homes in the corners of every room. Very unsightly.

After hours of getting the place presentable she set up a bell by the door along with an “open sign” that could be viewed through the window. She had no produce as of yet but that didn’t mean she couldn’t start taking orders down. She could expect her first shipment of ivory goods to be placed in a warehouse downtown any day that week. She would take a few choice items to display at the shop for purchase but mainly she was expected to do deals with jewellers and other such persons looking to buy the material in bulk. After not too long, and to Adora’s shock, the doorbell rang and in came two strange guests.

The two persons who entered the shop did so with large, imposing smiles and cheery greetings. One of them was a short girl, slightly chubby but not overly so, who wore an outlandish pink and purple dress with gold and blue trimmings. She also sported large boots and a strange shade of thickly painted purple lipstick. Even more oddly, she had dyed her hair in the same colour palette and waxed it into a kind of crescent shape that stuck out on her left side. Needless to say, she immediately drew Adora’s eyes. The other one, who Adora took a moment to register, was a man. He was tall, especially in comparison with the girl, with strong muscular features which were outlined by a short, thin shirt. The bottom of which didn’t quite meet his pants and so exposed his muscular midsection. He was also an African, the first she had seen in the city. They both spoke with American accents which hinted to their origins.

‘Excuse us for barging in but we saw you arriving earlier in the day. It’s so exciting to have new neighbours, this place has been empty for months now you know? When we first heard the gossip that the property had finally sold, the buyer was the talk of the whole street. Everyone’s really excited to meet you. Though I'm getting ahead of myself. I’m always doing that. I’m Glimmer and this is Bow, my…’ she paused trying to find the right word ‘friend’, she decided on after a moment. Adora found the pink girl more squealed than spoke. Glimmer was practically jumping with excitement and she talked faster than anyone Adora had ever met. A silence filled the room as Adora struggled to find her voice. She found that she was staring, again, mostly at the outlandish hair. But, not wanting to be rude she forced herself into conversation. Giving an exaggerated cough to break the silence before she started.

‘So you’re my neighbours?’ Adora managed after racking her brain for something to say. Glimmer—was that a real name?—looked as if she were about to explode into another chorus but Bow mercifully intervened.

‘Yes, we manage the tailor’s shop just up the end of the road. Brightmoon.’ he explained.

‘Your tailors then?’ Adora inquired, a little suspiciously. They looked nothing like any tailor she knew. Bow was too simply dressed and the less said about Glimmer’s attire the better. Still, she was thankful for a topic of conversation.

‘He is. I’m an actress.’ Glimmer clarified gesturing to herself and striking a pose. This caught Adora’s attention as it seemed to provide some answers to her distractingly peculiar appearance and general oddity.

‘Oh! So is Glimmer a stage name?’ Adora reasoned. Still completely hung up on all the strangeness. It appeared that she had said something wrong however, because the woman’s features dropped and Glimmer frowned. The sudden change in her mood wrong-footed Adora as she began to question what exactly she had said to elicit the response.

‘It’s not my birth name no.’ She acquiesced after a moment’s hesitation. A debate clearly taking place behind her eyes. Perhaps Adora had stumbled over a sensitive subject. Against all reason, Adora caught herself feeling guilty. Her mind began to torment her with a series of imagined scenarios that would explain the girl’s apparent distaste for her real name, each more extreme and elaborate than the last. Adora was at a loss for what to say. Dreading the unknown dirt she had potentially dug up, she began to fiddle with her sleeve as she so often did when nervous. After a moment though, her anxiety quickly fell and something new emerged. Frustration. As the absurdity of the situation dawned on her with a vengeance.

Why was she feeling sorry? Perhaps the real reason the girl was upset was simply that she was just as insane as her getup suggested. She didn’t need to feel guilty for pointing at an elephant in the room. Surely. Riding this wave of righteous indignation that had seemingly come from nowhere, Adora decided to push harder for an explanation from this “Glimmer”. The woman who had the audacity to walk into the room looking like she did and then make her feel like the one out of place.

‘Your dress and makeup.’ She began ‘Is there much work for an actress in Shanghai? What character are you supposed to be right now? Ariel from The Tempest? Maybe A Midsummer Night’s Dream is showing?’ Glimmer was taken aback by the sharpness of the comment and now looked truly offended. Adora immediately regretted her hostile stance. She didn’t know where it came from except that she had had a long day and this whole situation had caught her by surprise. Though Adora also noted that her reaction suggested that her get-up wasn’t a costume, to add a layer to the confusion. “Glimmer” took a breath as if she was about to make a retort but Bow stepped, quite literally, between them.

‘You must be tired. Adora was it?’ Adora nodded. Bow continued; ‘You just got here after what I’m sure was a very long journey. We’ll leave you to your business. We didn’t mean to intrude. You must be very busy. If you ever get a chance, stop by Brightmoon. I swear we're the cheapest and best you’ll find in the city, if you're in the market for some new clothes that is. Otherwise pop over any time for tea or sugar or whatever...’ As he talked Bow had begun shoving Glimmer towards the exit, the girl reluctantly accepting the nudging with a visible pout and furious eyes.

‘Bye, bye now.’ Bow gave the final call before they exited the door, ringing its bell as they left. Adora gave a meek goodbye that they probably didn’t hear and then promptly found herself alone in the shop once more. With the tense exchange over, Adora immediately threw herself onto her counter and placed her head in her hands. She screamed silently into her fingers while pulling at her own hair.

“Great start to your new life Adora.” She told herself aloud with an internalised sarcasm. “I’ve pissed off the neighbours on the first day. Why are you so bad at this?” Adora was torn between making amends with her new neighbours or trying to forget the exchange ever happened and ignoring them for the rest of her stay in Shanghai. Whatever her decision ultimately was, she could decide another day. After a moment longer she made her way, sluggishly, towards the seat behind the counter to await further guests in the proper manor.

\---

The rest of the day went by without much fuss. Some other people came into the shop now and again between Bow and Glimmer’s departure and her closure of the shop at midnight. Five people in fact. A couple and three other patrons over the course of five hours. All in all, it wasn’t exactly bustling. One of the patrons she met was a florist called Perfuma. She owned a shop downtown that doubled as a tea service. She said something about bringing “Chinese traditional medicine to the Westerners in Shanghai” and that she might be interested in acquiring ivory for her “ritual ceremonies”. Adora liked her, even if she seemed a little eccentric and talked with what seemed to her to be a constant forced smile. Though admittedly this eccentricity was mild in comparison to that Glimmer character.

The couple that entered her shop just before sun-down were Chinese. They had come all the way from Peking, claiming to be on official business from the royal court. The Qing was apparently quite interested in the up and coming businesses in Shanghai and were looking for talented craftsmen down on their luck to set up schools across the country and share their expertise with the peasantry at state expense. Adora wasn’t the craftsman and had so far no education in logistics or management, though she was bound to learn over the next few months. Even though she could be of little help to the Qing emissaries’ mission she told them to visit her shop again before they left the city. Adora promised the Mandarins that, when she had stock, she would like to send a gift with them for the Emperor and his mother. She would probably be wasting her produce but she couldn’t miss an opportunity, even a small one, to make herself known to the royal family. What if they decided they liked her wears and ordered from her later on? The royal court could set her for life and pay back her patrons with a sizeable interest. The emissaries said they would consider it and left the shop to survey the rest of the street.

The two other people who entered were a neighbour and a potential client respectively. The neighbour was a moustached, ex-navy man from the Philippines who went by the name Sea-Hawk and owned a shop of the same name. Not really in the mood for games Adora merely asked what his real name was before allowing him to continue. For a moment the disappointment on his face gave Adora an incredible Déjà vu. “Did everyone in this city have an alter-ego? Was she supposed to get one too?” Before her fears could manifest he had shrugged it off and told her that his real name was Jordan Fisher. He revealed that among the assortment of things he sold at his shop were some guns and other war memorabilia from the Spanish-American War. Mostly a series of military-grade weapons that had found themselves in oversupply when the war ended. Adora, remembering her brother’s request, showed interest in purchasing one of the weapons and Mr Fisher, aka Sea-Hawk, seemed all too happy to oblige.

The last client of the night was an elderly woman, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties, that wore a thick purple/crimson robe and a face mask that was shrouded in darkness. Her voice was deep, hoarse and accented but her English was sound. Adora had run out of patience for weirdness that day and decided to let the strange attire pass without comment or even a second thought. Lest she offended her too. The woman inquired about opening times and who her carer was, not about produce. A strange line of questioning. She told her the truth, that she hadn’t decided on a schedule of opening and closing times and that she was in the city alone. The shadowy woman then promptly left, promising to return when she had merchandise to sell. Better than nothing she supposed.

All in all, it was a strange day, the first of many. As she retired for the night, removing the bell from the door and putting up a closed sign, she heard a final and powerful display of fireworks beginning to go off at the Bund. Fourth of July celebrations had been happening in the background all day and it seemed that it would also go on for at least a little while into the morning of July 15th. She knew from literature that big cities were noisy places. Places that more rural folk like herself had trouble adjusting to, but noise on this level was sure to rob her of any potential sleep if it didn’t end soon. Nevertheless, exhausted as she was she crawled her way up the stairs to her bed and fell into it. Sleep followed soon after.


	4. Her Customary Attitude

Adora awoke irritatingly early on the morning of July 5th. Her internal body clock was still on Bengali Time and her new, quite small bed, was uncomfortable and foreign. Adora was tempted to simply lay there for a few hours more in a vain attempt to try and recuperate from her long first day in the city and limited hours rest. But she wasn’t the kind of person who could sleep in and having opened her eyes already, she knew it would be impossible to fall back to sleep. After waiting a few more moments longer, enough time for her legs and neck to become sore from their rigid stance, she threw off her covers and jumped to the day. Her first instinct was to walk onto her balcony, which was just adjacent to the bedroom, and observe the street while she was still in her nightclothes. As she opened the heavy wooden door that led out onto the small concrete platform she was immediately assaulted by the stinking heat of the city in summer.

The heated air forced its way into the bedroom violently and caused extreme discomfort in the woman. Not least because she had already been sweating. More than that though the heat of the city brought forth a terrible stench. The kind which had sometimes been present in Calcutta on the few trips she made there over her years but had thankfully not been present in Darjeeling where she grew up. It was the stench of hot sewage and general bad plumbing, which was the vice of every major city in the world. Except in Europe, or at least that’s what she heard. London and Paris were supposed to have been outfitted with state of the art underground systems for waste disposal and the air in the cities was supposedly as free from stench as any countryside villa. Nevertheless, in the rest of the world, the great cities stunk all through the hot seasons. So much so that any well to do person evacuated the city limits throughout the whole of every summer if possible. Adora would not have that luxury. She had a business to run and money to make for the shareholders in her company. 

After a moment of contemplation she heard a whistle from the street below and spied a man down its corner. Actually a whole gang of them and some of their spouses. All dressed up and obviously headed somewhere. They were pointing and gawking at her from the street below and speaking to each other in a language she didn’t understand but presumed to be German. In that moment Adora realised that she was underdressed and fled back into her room, slamming the door behind her as she went. She heard the crowd laugh from the street below, obviously quite amused about the whole thing. Adora let her fist bang against the interior of her door in frustration as she listened to the laughter which to her sounded like the most fowl abuse in her sleep deprived state. She took that moment to compose herself before sighing and moving onto the chores of the day. She found her clothes in the bedroom’s cupboard and put on the thinnest dress she could find with its accompanying large, straw hat. It was probably behind the fashion standards of the city but in that moment she cared only that it would keep out the heat. She took only a minute in the bathroom to apply the thinnest vale of make-up, mostly to cover the bags developing under her eyes and then made her way down to the shop front without breakfast. 

She turned over the closed/open sign to the appropriate side and awaited newcomers behind her desk. As the heat of the day grew and grew she noticed that there were still many people out and about at all times, walking through the streets of the city. None entered her shop before the clock struck ten in the morning and so Adora decided she would instead wonder the city herself. As she carefully walked outside she attempted to spy into Brightmoon to see what her neighbours were up to. She found a bored looking Bow playing with his fingers behind the counter but no one else. Glimmer was either out or in the back, doing God knows what. He hadn’t noticed her and after their frosty exchange the previous day she wanted it to stay that way. She slipped into the street and power walked until she was sure she had slipped past without his notice. 

For a long while she wandered aimlessly. Merely familiarising herself with the scenery. During her escapades she came across a cafe, much like the ones that were in her story books and the news articles that sometimes made their way to the colonies. She remembered an exchange with her uncle in that moment, while he was on leave from a tour of duty in the royal navy. His ship had unexpectedly been called into the North Sea due to rising tensions between Britain and the Russian Empire. There his shore-leave days were able to be spent in London. Her uncle talked endlessly about the city as if it were the most beautiful place on Earth. He spoke especially about the coffee houses, French style cafes where in the morning they served pastries and coffee with eggs. He insisted that the cafe was the most wonderful invention of Europe that never made it to India and implored her father that if he ever retired from the military they should open the first cafe in India together. As Adora remembered the story her stomach gave an audible growl and she noticed for the first time that day how very hungry she was. Having skipped breakfast and all. The store was bound to close soon and so she counted the allowance she took with her. Twenty Mexican dollars, worth the large coins’ weight in silver. More than enough for anything and more than she should be carrying around on her if she was honest.

When she walked onto the property, its seating strutting out onto the street, she found that it was surrounded on three sides with hedges, providing shade and a relief from the smell of the streets through the strategic planting of various, nice smelling flowers. She was greeted immediately by a familiar face. 

‘Perfuma!’ Adora called out as she saw her cleaning a table. In that moment Adora was suddenly struck by how good she looked. She wore silks, like a green parody of a typical Chinese silk dress, with flowers in her flowing hair and slim high heel shoes that made her seem much taller than she was. The wavy fabric did not contain the same skeletal framework that dominated most ladies clothing in her time and so the clothes hugged her slim frame revealingly. Adora gulped as her eyes stared too long at the figure before her. Feigning a cough to escape the incident, and to hide her shame, Perfuma immediately launched to her side and led her to a table in the corner. She ordered a coffee with eggs which was brought to her quickly and which she enjoyed immensely. She ate it all far too quick to be considered ladylike. After some of the other guests began to leave Perfuma took a seat next to Adora and struck conversation with her. 

‘Do you have any of your ivory in store yet?’ She asked as she poured two cups of tea in front of her. Adora tried to refuse but was told it was on the house and then simply accepted it with a thank you. 

‘No not yet. I’m waiting for a letter from the Shanghai Municipal Council. They'll need me to sign a few things once they get the produce.’ Adora explained. Sipping her coffee and staring off into the bushes to try and distract her wondering eyes. ‘I like the flowers.’ She blurted out all at once, rather clumsily before looking into Perfuma’s eyes again quickly to avoid further awkwardness. ‘I mean, ah, they really help with the smell.’ Adora explained.

‘Oh, those are “Lily of the Valley” and the lavender bushes. They are essentials in the summer to keep out the fowl air.’ Perfuma observed and Adora quickly agreed. ‘I can sell you some for quite a reasonable price. Honestly they make doing business much easier in the summer. Plus, they're gorgeous.’ Perfuma insisted. 

‘I think I will buy a couple once I get the ivory in stock. If I buy them now they may die before I really get the chance to use them. But maybe I could buy a bundle as a gift?’ Adora inquired. Perfuma awaited an explanation. 

‘I think I was a little rude to some of my neighbours. I need an “I’m sorry” kind of a gift...you know, something that says: please forgive me.’ Adora explained and Perfuma frowned and gave what Adora thought was a cute little pout. 

‘I think I better throw in some roses too. Just to be safe.’ She suggested with a smile before leaving to arrange a bundle for her. 

\---

Adora had made her way back to Brightmoon with the bundle of flowers in her hand. Even now she was debating whether or not to go through with it and make the apology. Having already bought the flowers, at an expensive premium from Perfuma who had insisted that roses were the appropriate thing for apologies, she thought she really ought to. Besides she had been rude, she was sure of it. Glimmer may have been a strange person and was acting overly defensive, sure, but Adora had been short with her. There was no excuse for such behaviour. Having decided that she was definitely overthinking all of this and knowing that if she was ever going to smooth things over with her neighbours it was probably best to do so soon, she made up her mind. The longer she waited the more awkward things would get. Adora took a deep breath and pushed her way through the front door into the shop. She found Bow crouched down in the far corner of the room. He was measuring the hems of one the dresses when he heard their bell ring indicating a new customer. He turned around quickly, about to give what Adora presumed was a standard greeting until he saw her, stammered and then decided on something less formal. 

‘Oh, Adora. How are you?’ He asked a little nervously. His left hand rubbing at his right wrist. Adora took another deep breath and took a moment to survey the room. They were the only two there. No other customers, no Glimmer.

‘I’m good.’ Adora answered belatedly. Then she paused as Bow stared at her, waiting for her to say something else. Or else to explain the flowers. Adora was holding said flowers at an angle in front of her at a total loss for what to say or more accurately, how to say it. Frustrated with her own social clumsiness she lifted her bouquet at arms length in front of her with an ungraceful haste. Positioning the arrangement so that it would hide her face from view thereby allowing her eyes to fall to the ground in front of Bow’s feet as she did so. 

‘I brought these for you.’ She said matter of factly, her face going red from general embarrassment. ‘To say sorry. You know, for yesterday.’ She added quickly. There was a silence for a moment. Adora bit at the inside of her cheek as she waited for a reply. 

‘Oh. Thank you. You really shouldn’t have. I mean there was no need. I have a vase in the back we can put them in, just give me a second.’ With that he ducked in the back leaving Adora alone in the shopfront. As Bow disappeared into the next room Adora allowed her arms to lower and her tense back to slump. Having nothing else to do while she waited Adora took a moment to study the merchandise. The signage littered around the clothing items assured their readers that the dresses were all the height of European fashion. Adora eyed the women’s section with curiosity, just in case something caught her fancy. Her clothing had been limited to what her father had managed to fit in her carry bags for this adventure so she was in need for some more variety. Besides, buying something from the shop would hopefully further endear her with the Brightmoon crew. 

She found a series of flowing “French” gowns of various quality in bright yellows and soft pinks. There were also corsets, scarves and a series of hats ranging from modest to outlandish. One of the hats had been decorated with a simply obscene amount of exotic feathers that must have been a nightmare to maintain. There was a men’s section too but it was all bland suits and dinner jackets. One item, hidden away in the corner, however, caught her eye as one of the most unusual things she ever saw. 

It was a blazer, shirt and pants combination hidden away in the women's section. The blazer was an imposing imperial pink-red not totally unlike the dresses but with large, powerful shoulder pads like those found on the higher end men’s blazers to make the wearer seem more muscular than they were. It had a collar like a man's shirt might but with two wings on each side and there were a series of sharp, triangular holes carved into each of the shoulders as decoration. Presumably to show off the shirt underneath. The frankenstein creation then came into half length sleeves which puffed up with material much like an Elizabethan noble women's dress might have done. The shirt was an off-white piece with red patterning made from a form fitting material while the pants were scandalously skin tight and came with a belt to hold it in place. All this despite apparently being a women’s outfit by category and colour. Still staring at the creation she didn’t notice as Bow reappeared behind her. 

‘Mind if I take these?’ He said suddenly while placing his hands around the wrapped flower stems. Bow gave her a warm smile before he took the gift and removed the flower’s stems from their delicate paper wrappings. He then let them fall into an impressively large vase which had been manoeuvred onto the shop front desk.

‘They liven the place up a bit don’t they.’ Bow commented. 

‘Yes I suppose they do.’ Adora agreed.

‘Thank you for them.’ Bow finished. Before long his eyes moved to the outfit that had so caught Adora’s attention previously and as his attention fell on the creation it caused a little blush to form on his face as he did so. ‘Is it really that distracting?’ He asked, his voice sounding uncharacteristically flat. Adora raised an eyebrow at him before responding. 

‘It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.’ She admitted. Her eyes moved towards it again with renewed curiosity. 

‘I don’t know what I was thinking when I created it. I’ll never sell it. I gave into my artistic side a bit and went a little wild. I thought, maybe I was onto something. I don’t know. Glimmer was furious. I had wasted so much time and material on it and it scares away customers. I should just throw it out.’ Bow concluded, though the pain in his voice told Adora that he didn’t like the idea of parting with it. It wasn’t bad quality, either in material or craftsmanship. It was just a bit too odd for the average woman in the street. How would they explain owning such a thing or justify wearing it out. Luckily for Bow, Adora was not the average woman. It was a strong, imposing item, much like her. And unlike the ladies of the town Adora had no social life to sacrifice by wearing it. If this truly was a one of a kind garment then maybe she could even use it as a kind of branding. People could spot her in a crowd wearing something like this and think to themselves “That’s the woman with her own business! The one with the Ivory Shop.” Best of all it seemed like it would fit her. 

‘How much would I have to pay you to part with it?’ Adora asked, a smile creeping onto her face. Bow looked shocked, then flattered then apprehensive. 

‘Your apology is accepted. You don’t need to buy that thing too.’ Bow began but Adora cut him off. 

‘I like it. How much?’ Bow took a moment to believe her but seeing the determination in her eyes he began to beam a smile. 

‘I think I can make you a fairly generous offer.’


End file.
